


fire, freedom, flooding open

by atlantisairlock



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Assumptions, F/F, Falling In Love, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, Light Angst, Love Confessions, Miscommunication, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Not Canon Compliant, Revelations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-22 22:34:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17068436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlantisairlock/pseuds/atlantisairlock
Summary: Cat Grant does not do envy. She's not a jealous person. Jealousy is for the weak, and Cat is anything but.At least, until she finds out Kara Danvers has a girlfriend.





	fire, freedom, flooding open

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Beryl4](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beryl4/gifts).



> merry christmas beryl4! hope you enjoy this fic - i had a lot of fun writing it! 
> 
> prompt - cat is having a business lunch when she notices kara and alex having what looks like is an intimate conversation.
> 
> title from 'the greatest show' by the greatest showman ensemble cast.

Of all the seven sins that Cat tends towards, Envy sure isn’t one of them.

Cat has no illusions about herself - she hasn’t gotten this far in her life by telling herself soothing lies so as not to bruise her ego. She’s proud, and she’s wrathful, on quite a number of occasions. Never, ever lazy. But envious? Jealous? She’s never seen a point in that. If someone else is doing better than she is, or has something that she wants, she just goes ahead and works until she _is_ better than they are, or gets her hands on what she wants. That isn’t always easy, but she’s never been here for easy. She’s here for sinking her teeth into whatever she sets her eyes on and holding on and not letting go. She’s spent half her life scoffing at people who just let jealousy simmer beneath their skin and never do anything about it.

Kara Danvers just makes it all very inconvenient.

 

 

The first time Cat realises that something is Not Right is when she’s out for an off-the-books dinner meeting with an agonisingly boring executive from an advertising company that wants to do business with CatCo. He’s droning on about their figures from last year and Cat is eyeing her salad fork, idly wondering if it might be possible to maim the idiot with it.

It’s entirely accidental that her glance passes across said fork and to the rest of the patrons in the middling restaurant. The typical bunch that such a place would attract, Cat thinks, in their stuffy ill-fitting suits and sipping overpriced wine, and groups of rich mothers tittering about the latest inner circle gossip, and -

Cat feels her eyebrows go up as she sets eyes on someone she certainly did _not_ expect to see. What in the world is her assistant - what in the world is _Kara_ doing here? And unless Cat fell asleep listening to her dinner date without realising it - a possibility, she will admit - she’s certainly not dreaming that Kara isn’t here alone. Sitting across her is another woman with short dark hair, listening intently to what Kara is saying and giving her genuine smiles in response.

Before Cat’s riveted gaze, the woman seems to make a reply to something Kara says. Kara throws her head back and laughs, uninhibited. Her hand rests on the woman’s wrist, and her eyes sparkle even in the dim mood lighting of the restaurant.

Something very sour and very unfamiliar twists beneath Cat’s breastbone. The rest of her meal suddenly seems terribly unappetising, and her mild irritation at the executive’s incessant pontification increases tenfold. Staying any longer in the restaurant suddenly seems unbearable. Cat cuts the executive off by calling for the bill and hopefully making it very clear that CatCo will _not_ be contacting his company again.

She strides past Kara’s table as she exits. Kara doesn’t look up, too absorbed in her conversation, but her laughter rings in Cat’s ears as she leaves.

 

 

Perhaps it’s just her imagination (which was going absurdly rampant the night before), but Kara seems to have an extra spring in her step when she comes in the next morning, greeting Cat with her usual cheery chirp. Cat returns the greeting a little more snidely than she usually does, and then feels atypically guilty when Kara shrugs it off, as always, and starts rattling off Cat’s schedule for the day. “You’ve got a dinner meeting tonight, Ms Grant - with one of our long-term corporate partners. It’s at the new Italian restaurant that just opened a block away. I’ve made reservations for seven, and called a car.”

“Hm,” Cat replies noncomittally. “And will I see you at today’s meeting as well? Maybe you could turn it into a trend.”

Kara blinks, eyes wide and not comprehending. It’s strangely endearing. And very annoying, especially when she finally lights up in understanding. “Oh! Do you mean last night, Ms Grant? I didn’t know you had a meeting there! I was just out for dinner with my - “

Something seizes in Cat’s chest, stealing her breath. It feels like the air in her office suddenly gets impossibly heavy, and she can’t breathe. She desperately doesn’t want to hear the end to that sentence. She knows what Kara is going to say, and she doesn’t know _why,_ but she doesn’t know if she could stand if Kara actually spoke it out. With a panic she really hopes Kara doesn’t hear she interrupts, louder than she knows she should be. “Thank you, Keira, but I really don’t need to hear about your private life. Don’t you have actual work to do?”

Kara cuts herself off, and Cat sees the flash of confused hurt pass her face for just the briefest moment. The ache in her chest doesn’t ease as her expression smooths over again and she straightens up, nodding professionally. “Of course. I’ll be at my desk.”

Cat watches as she leaves, and doesn’t realise she’s holding her breath until the door closes again.

 

 

She doesn’t know why, but after that night it’s like something inside her has gone on the fritz. Namely her _common sense._ Cat passes Kara’s desk like she has a thousand times over, but this time her gaze sharpens on the few pictures she has framed up. One is a group shot with her colleagues, another with her parents, and two with pride of place, her arms around the woman she saw in the restaurant. Cat grits her teeth and walks away, trying not to seethe and wondering furiously why she is.

“Not going out with Olsen, then?” Cat asks another morning when Kara brings her usual coffee, after a week or so of watching their interactions with the eyes of a hawk and trying to put puzzle pieces together. It’s not very professional, which is a little hypocritical all things considered, but Kara just smiles sunnily, unfazed, and shrugs. “We’re just friends, Ms Grant. He’s really not my type. But a very good friend!”

Cat is profoundly unconcerned with how good a friend James Olsen is, but she does want to make a very pointed comment about Kara’s type. She bites her tongue. She’s not going to stoop that low - but oh, she truly, _badly_ wants to. It’s completely ridiculous.

What even is going on?

 

 

Carter comes to the office for Bring Your Kid To Work Day. Cat puts Kara in charge of his safety and wellbeing when she has something urgent to attend to and can’t be with Carter. She tries to be with him as much as possible, but people are incompetent and aggravating and Cat has to rush off to an urgent meeting which ends up with her being sorely tempted to fire her entire HR team. When she gets back to her office she’s nursing a headache, which is… slightly improved when she walks in to see Kara helping Carter with his journal. They both look up when she enters, giving her equally bright smiles. Cat feels some tension leave her muscles, and she gives a very quick smile back. “Hello, Carter. Did you get into any mischief while I was out?”

“Oh, no, Ms Grant, he was wonderful,” Kara jumps in. She has an arm around Carter’s shoulders and looks pleased and proud. “We’re just finishing up his homework.”

“I have to write my journal and talk about what happened today at your office, Mom,” Carter adds, gesturing to his notebook, which is open to a full page of fresh ink. Cat comes over to take a look, impressed with his careful detail and neat handwriting. “Well done,” she says, ruffling his hair gently. “You’ve been respectful and attentive all day, and I’m proud of you. How about we go out for dinner tonight?” 

Carter lights up. “Can Kara come too?”

Inwardly, Cat freezes, although she doesn’t let it show. Her instinctive leaning towards professionalism and all her common sense says no, but it’s warring with this overwhelming, irrational desire to turn to Kara and make that offer. Which is absurd - she wants to spend her time with Carter, their one-on-one time together is precious and more important to Cat than anything else in the world, Kara’s not even family, so _why_ -

“It’s all right, Carter, I don’t want to intrude,” Kara says softly, breaking in on Cat’s train of thought, which is rapidly going off the rails. “And anyway, I already have plans tonight. But I’ll see you again soon, okay?”

Carter’s affirmative response is lost on Cat amidst the sudden static buzz of incoherent noise in her mind, ringing in her ears. Of course. She’d momentarily forgotten - Kara’s date, Kara’s significant other, the pretty woman with dark hair and dark eyes and that blinding smile, directed straight at Kara from across a table in a restaurant - of course.

“Well, be off then,” Cat finally manages to say, trying to ignore the stiffness with which the words pass her lips. “Have a good time on your date. Come on, Carter, don’t bother Keira any further. Pack your bag, and I’ll call a car.”

Kara opens her mouth, staring at Cat with brows furrowed, then closes her mouth again, getting to her feet. “Good night, Ms Grant. See you tomorrow.” She turns back to Carter one last time, and her expression is so much more genuine and open and it makes Cat’s heart hurt and she doesn’t know why. “Catch up soon, Little Grant!”

Carter waves her goodbye as Kara exits, then packs his bag. Cat busies herself with calling said car so she doesn’t have to think about anything else.

 

 

Midway through their greasy dinner at one of Carter’s favourite pizza places, Cat looks up from cutting up her pizza to see Carter frowning slightly at her. It’s worrying - he looks troubled, and she doesn’t like seeing that expression on her son’s face. “Is something wrong, Carter?”

He replies with all the innocent, blunt honesty only a kid his age can. “Mom, why do you call Kara _Keira_ when you know that’s not her name?”

Cat goes still, breath catching. Carter’s gaze doesn’t waver, and it feels like he’s looking right through her. She isn’t even surprised - he’s always been more perceptive and intelligent than people give him credit for, and he’s always known her well. She puts her fork and knife down, giving him her full attention. “You noticed that.”

He narrows his eyes at her. “You’re kind of mean to her sometimes. It’s not nice. You shouldn’t make someone feel bad like that.”

“I,” Cat starts, and then pauses, because it’s true. “You’re right. I’m - it’s habit. I’m working on it.” It _is_ habit, borne out of wanting to push Kara further, challenge her, because Cat knows she’s capable of so much more. She started that way trying to figure out Kara’s breaking point, trying to figure out all her weak spots, and Kara surprised her every time, always bouncing back. Maybe it’s not the best way, but the kind of environment she grew up in, the kind of career she’s in now… it feels like she doesn’t know any other way. Any better way. Especially not now that everything seems to be going all strange and confusing and unrecognisable and she doesn’t know what the hell is going on with her head or her heart.

“You shouldn’t be mean to someone when you like them,” Carter carries on, matter-of-fact. “That’s not the right way. Mrs Adib taught us that in school - sometimes people say that when boys like a girl they pull her hair and stuff like that, but that’s not right and it only _normalises violence,_ ” he adds, stressing the words and making sure he pronounces everything right, and despite the confusion that’s beginning to set in, Cat feels terribly proud. “You can’t show someone you like them by being mean to them.”

Cat thinks her heart stops in her chest. “Carter, what are you talking about? What do you mean ‘showing someone you like them’?”

“Isn’t that why? Because you like Kara?”

“No!” Cat says, and it comes out almost in a very unbecoming yelp. “I mean, she’s a very competent assistant, and a very good person, and I - I don’t dislike her. But it’s not - Carter, do you mean _like_ in a romantic sense?”

“Duh,” Carter replies, rolling his eyes. “It’s so obvious. You _totally_ like her, like how Jemma in class has a huge crush on Nicole. I’m not dumb!” 

Cat opens her mouth again to tell Carter that he’s utterly mistaken, and then the image of Kara in that restaurant with her girlfriend pops into her head completely unbidden, and the words die in her throat. She remembers with acute clarity the rancid, burning ache in her chest that day, her glance passing over them, then lingering. The jagged sting of _something_ wordless when she saw those pictures on Kara’s desk.

Oh no.

Oh _no._ God, no. It can’t be. Something akin to panic rises through her, her hands going numb, choking her. She hasn’t felt like this in years, hasn’t felt so vulnerable and stupid in years, and her whole life has been spent trying to be _better,_ trying to be the best, fighting and clawing to get what she wants, always being able to have it all -

“Mom?” Carter says, sounding concerned, and Cat comes back to herself, realising her grip on her fork is so tight her knuckles are going white. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she replies faintly. As fine as she can be now that it’s crashed down upon her that she might have feelings for her fucking assistant. Her _younger_ assistant - Christ, Kara must be ten years younger than her, at _least._ And she has a girlfriend. A girlfriend who isn’t Cat and won’t be Cat any time soon.

Of all the things she thought she would be dealing with when she brought Kara on board, this was absolutely not one of them, but here they are, and for the first time in a long time, she has no idea what she’s going to do.

 

 

“Mom,” Carter begins as they tuck into their after-dinner ice creams, walking from the ice cream parlour to the car. “You know what you should do?”

She glances over at him, slightly confused. “About what, Carter?”

“You _know_ what,” he answers sagely, sounding _far_ too wise for his age. “You should just tell Kara you like her.”

Cat sighs. “Carter,” she starts, but Carter shakes his head and carries on, giving her an apologetic but firm look. “What if she likes you back? She would be so happy, and then you two would be happy _together._ And even if she doesn’t, you should be honest with the people you love.”

 _I don’t_ love _her, love is too strong a word,_ Cat starts to reply, but then Kara’s face flashes across her mind and her throat closes up. Kara and her boundless optimism, and her ready smile, and her willingness to help, and her genuine kindness, and the limitless strength that belies her happy-go-lucky persona. Kara knows Cat better than most of the people in her life, one of the only exceptions being Carter. She’s seen Cat at her worst - her cruelest, her angriest, her most insufferable - and she’s stood by her side nonetheless. Cat tries to imagine her life without Kara, and it’s not that she can’t. She can, and the thought of it makes her heart hurt so much she can’t breathe.

She thinks about doing it the way Carter would probably imagine - storming into work tomorrow, going to Kara’s desk and telling her to clear her night. Taking her out, sitting across her in a restaurant instead, and maybe -

She wants it, so badly. And her whole life has been about doing everything it takes to get what she wants. More than anything in her life, she wants Carter to grow up safe and happy and successful. But this comes so, so close a second, and she knows beyond a doubt she can’t have it.

“Carter, listen to me,” Cat says, the effort of keeping her voice from wavering weighing heavy on her shoulders. “Sometimes you just can’t do that, all right? Kara works for me. I’m her boss. We have a professional relationship, and anything more would be - not right. And she has a girlfriend. It would be wrong of me to put her in a difficult position by telling her how I feel. Do you understand? Sometimes, you have to put other people before yourself, even if it means not getting what you want. Sometimes the hard thing is the right thing, and what have I always taught you?”

“To do the right thing,” Carter replies. His small hand reaches for hers, squeezing tight, and Cat squeezes back. “I get it, Mom. I wish it could be different. She seems to make you happy.”

 _She does,_ Cat thinks, the cold aching wistfulness curling in her stomach. _And me too._

 

She’s Cat Grant, veritable _queen_ of CatCo - if most people add the prefix _Ice_ before that title when they say her name it still doesn’t change the weight of that word. She’s smart and brilliant and untouchable, and she’s worked hard to become all that, but after her conversation with Carter everything just seems to be thrown into uncertainty. It is far harder than she expected to keep her longing in check. It was already awful before, when she wasn’t completely sure what in the world was going on with her heart, but now, the cold clarity of how she feels about Kara - about her _assistant,_ that title keeps making her incomprehensibly resentful - makes even simple conversation an absolute trial. It honestly makes Cat angry. She should be better than this, and certainly not taking her own mistakes out on Kara.

And that’s what this whole thing should be, really - a mistake. Of course it’s a mistake to have fallen for someone like Kara - half Cat’s age and her subordinate and, if Cat swallows her pride and looks herself hard in the mirror, twice the person Cat will ever be.

But that’s also the thing, because Kara _is_ twice the person Cat will ever be and she is a _light_ and Cat can’t find it in herself to regret any of this. She thinks a better person would fervently wish they’d never hired this girl in the first place, but Kara has brought so much unexpected joy and intrigue and _happiness_ into her life that Cat could never in good conscience wish for that. There is very little for which she would exchange Kara’s presence in her world. She thinks that makes her deeply unworthy.

She doesn’t even know the name of Kara’s girlfriend, but Cat badly wants to do some digging and make sure this girl is good enough. She’s not going to do it - it would be arrogant and also a grievous professional aberration - but it’s hard not to want to.

Kara comes into the office every single day like normal, like nothing has changed for her, which it hasn’t. She greets Cat as usual, like she hasn’t noticed how much more terse Cat is with her, how much more sharp-tongued she’s become. Cat realises, a month in, that when she looks in the mirror she sees the Cat who first interviewed Kara Danvers and decided to take her on, not the Cat who’s seen some growth with Kara by her side, who’s softened and learned to open up a bit and be the person she could have been away from the brutal, cynical corporate world. It is a deeply unpleasant realisation. Not for the first time, she wishes she could be better. She wishes she knew a better way to do this.

 

 

About three months after The Epiphany, Cat finds herself in the office later than she ought to be - not uncommon - with Kara doing her own work in the same room - slightly more uncommon. If she were less busy scrambling to fix some heinously idiotic mistake from three levels below she would probably be a little more affected by the situation, but - well. Heinously idiotic mistake. As it is she’s barely acknowledging Kara’s presence as Kara works to help fix other aspects of the aforementioned mistake.

At midnight she’s tapping away at her computer, and a cup of coffee slides its way under her nose. Cat looks up to see Kara giving her a small smile, her own mug in her other hand. “Looked like you needed it, Ms Grant.”

Cat gives her a nod and a brief smile, but Kara doesn’t move back to her work. She cocks her head a little, gaze fixed on Cat’s. “Are you doing all right, Ms Grant?”

Cat’s hand stills on her steaming hot coffee cup. “Why do you ask, Keira?”

Kara shrugs, taking a sip of her coffee. “You seem a little stressed recently. More than usual. I was just… worried.”

Of course she was. Cat can read between the lines, can see that Kara _did_ notice Cat’s change in attitude towards her. Her words come casual and careless but Cat can hear the subtle questioning hints, the slight confusion, maybe some hurt. Or maybe she’s imagining her importance in Kara’s life, because Cat is just her boss and maybe she’s just concerned about her future in the company and that should not make the ache flare in Cat’s chest like it does but that was out of the window quite a while ago.

She doesn’t know what to say. It’s dark outside, the city quietening as the hours get later, and her office is the only one lit on the floor. She’s alone with Kara, both of them looking at each other, and for a wild moment, Cat desperately wants nothing more than to open her mouth and let everything spill out. To tell Kara in no unclear terms just how much she feels when she looks at her. To lean across the accursed table like the idiot of a lead in a romantic comedy and kiss her.

She is not, however, the lead in a straight-to-DVD chick flick, and Cat may not be able to tame her heart but she can certainly keep a firm hold on her actions. She won’t put Kara into that position. She would never do that to her. Instead, Cat just gestures to the papers strewn across her desk. “Well, I would say I certainly have good reason.”

It’s deliberately wry, a bit lighter than usual, and Kara takes it in the good humour it’s meant to have. With a laugh she goes back to her own work, and Cat drags her gaze away to fix on her work as well. It’s not easy, but she’s used to doing the hard thing. The _right_ thing.

 

 

She really tries. She’s had a whole life of practice, putting aside what she wants - the stupid, petty, short-term things her emotions tell her she wants - to work for the real good in her life. She manages, mostly, to compartmentalise her feelings and put them away and live as normal for months on end. Her life doesn’t begin and end with falling for Kara, with being in love. She can live like this, and it’s fine.

It only really comes to a head the day she walks into the office after months upon months of not seeing The Girlfriend except in the photographs on Kara’s desk to find her standing in Kara’s cubicle talking to Kara. Standing close, speaking low and urgent, and Kara listening intently, evidently hooked on every word.

Everything screeches to a halt. It is nothing like Cat has ever felt in all the years she has been alive. She’s vaguely aware that the world around her seems to blur out, everything becoming quieter but for the raging roar in her ears. She thinks Kara says something as she passes her desk, but Cat just pushes forward into her office until the door is shut behind her and she’s seated, trying to breathe. It takes her a good five minutes to get her head on straight again, and by the end of those five minutes she knows she’s let this go on far too long. She’s _done_ feeling like this, and letting it ruin her life. If nothing is going to change, she’s going to have to take things into her own hands.

She’ll start with a date, Cat decides firmly. Throwing herself right into the deep end. She has to find some way to end this, to fight her own heart. She’s done it before, sort of. She can do it again. She has to, or she is going to hurt forever, and she cannot allow that to happen. 

 

 

She arranges her own dinner reservations and hedges her bets with a passably bearable executive she met a couple years back in the line of duty. The restaurant is lovely and the food delicious, and she can’t _complain,_ not really. Her date is scrupulously polite, and does all the right things, and makes an effort at intelligent, stimulating conversation. A few years ago, Cat thinks distantly while she tries to pay attention to something he’s saying, she would have thoroughly enjoyed herself. It would have been a good night. And it’s not that she’s trying - she is, with something almost akin to desperation that it’s frankly pathetic - but everything about the night feels terribly hollow. She’d thought this might help, might take her mind off Kara, and all it’s done is just remind her the strength and intensity of her feelings, and everything about it is unbearable.

The date ends abruptly when the executive gets an urgent call and apologetically excuses himself. Cat waves him off and pretends she doesn’t feel relieved, then heads to the restaurant’s adjoining bar to get herself a drink, because _god,_ she needs one.

And the universe must hate her, or something, because when Cat takes a seat at the bar and calls for a scotch, she hears a familiar voice pipe up. “I’ll have one of the same.” 

 _Jesus,_ Cat thinks despairingly as Kara slides into the seat next to hers. “Keira, what are you doing here?”

“Having a drink,” Kara replies, trying for casual and almost - _almost_ \- succeeding, but Cat knows her better than that. She can hear the slight waver, the uncertainty, the nervousness, and dully wonders what _that’s_ about. “Like you.”

Cat sighs, studiously not meeting her gaze and reaching out instead for her scotch and downing half the glass in one go. “Look, Kara, I just came from a lousy date, and - “

“I know,” Kara interrupts. “I was there. I saw you having dinner with him.”

Cat does turn to frown disapprovingly at her now. “Are you _actually_ following me?”

Kara laughs, adjusting her glasses the way she does when she’s a little embarrassed. “It was really a coincidence, Ms Grant, I swear. I didn’t expect to see you at all. I came with my own company.” She goes on before Cat can quell the flare of jealousy rising inside her, such a familiar feeling these days where it never was before. “You didn’t look like you were enjoying yourself.”

It sounds concerned, curious even, and suddenly something just - breaks, under the weight of hiding and repressing and _trying_ so hard for so long, and Cat feels so angry, at herself, at Kara, at the world, at everything. She drains the rest of the glass and slams it back down onto the bartop with more force than should be strictly necessary. “No, Kara, I wasn’t,” she says, low and quiet and charged with emotion, and this is a _terrible_ idea, and if she had a shred of rationality left and wasn’t getting tipsier, she would be restraining herself, but she’s just so tired, and it feels like the past months have been a warzone within her heart, and Cat thinks maybe if she just gets this out of the way, that is what will _finally_ end this. It will ruin everything she’s built between her and Kara - Kara, who is too good for her, who always will be - but maybe that’s always been how it’s supposed to end. It makes sense that she gets basically everything she works for in her life, except the few things she truly, deeply wants. Maybe that’s the sacrifice that needs to be made, and if she has to live with that, then she will.

“I didn’t enjoy myself,” Cat continues, holding Kara’s gaze and not flinching. “He wasn’t the one I wanted to be out on a date with, and I went out with him because I thought it would help me get my head on straight and get myself to stop being in love with someone I can’t have, but it didn’t work, and now _you’re_ standing here in front of me telling me you saw every moment of that wreck of a dinner happening.” From over Kara’s shoulder Cat can see past into the restaurant, can scan the interior and have her eyes rest on a familiar face looking back in their direction, and she blames that entirely for the rest of what she says. “Please go back and join your girlfriend, Kara, and let me be alone to deal with having been on that date with that man instead of being with you.”

The words leave her mouth, and Cat gets a blessed ten seconds to revel in the satisfaction of leaving Kara completely speechless with shock before the reality hits her like a freight train. But for some remnants of self-control she almost stumbles back, appalled, her heart racing. _No._ She didn’t just actually say that to Kara’s face, she didn’t -

Without a word Kara turns on her heel and walks away, walks back to the brunette at her table, and that should not hurt as much as it does, but Cat really shouldn’t be surprised by now at the effect Kara can have on her. She feels frozen to the spot, wanting to call Kara back, to apologise, to take back her words, to beg her not to leave -

But then Kara takes the other woman’s hand, pulls her to her feet, and returns to where she was standing, facing Cat with this deliberate calm. “Alex, let me introduce my boss, Cat Grant. Ms Grant,” she says, voice doggedly even. “This is Alex. Alex Danvers, my older sister.” 

Cat blames the alcohol and the late hour and the emotional upheaval she’s been dealing with for how long it takes for that statement to really sink into her brain, for all its implications to settle. There is complete silence for a minute as everything recalibrates.

Oh.

“Your sister,” she replies dumbly, vaguely aware that she looks like an idiot right now but unable to find it in herself to care. Alex Danvers - Kara’s sister, older sister, not her girlfriend, has never been her girlfriend, and Cat has never felt so stupid in her life - extends a hand for her to shake. “Pleased to meet you.”

Cat shakes her hand, feeling like she’s on autopilot. Her mouth continues to move mostly without her approval. “You’re not Kara’s girlfriend.”

Alex snorts, looking amused and very much like she wants to laugh. “God, no. Completely sisterly here, and I have a girlfriend of my own, and - anyway, I know her heart belongs to someone else.” She gives Kara a long, fond look, then nods to Cat with a smile. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going off for an actual date with my girlfriend. I’m sure you two have things to talk about. See you around, Cat.”

Alex has swept out of the restaurant, and Kara has gently led both of them back onto the bar seats, before Cat manages to find her voice again. “I’m an idiot.”

Kara grins merrily. “Never thought I’d hear that from Cat Grant.” Her expression is soft and open and _longing_ in a way that makes something stir in Cat’s chest. Something far brighter than she’s felt in ages, since she figured it out - something like hope. “I can’t believe you thought Alex was my girlfriend. Cat, why didn’t you just ask me?”

“I didn’t think it would be _appropriate,_ Kara,” Cat strains, the shock of the last five minutes still surging through her. “You’re my assistant, I couldn’t just - it wasn’t professional.” Not that it was very professional to fall for her assistant either, but god, she _tried._

“Unprofessional, huh,” Kara says softly. She’s leaning in closer now, smiling. “Would it be unprofessional for me to kiss you now?”

It very much would, but Cat wants this so badly, has been wanting it for so long, been hoping, been so resigned to never getting it, and she’s never been in the habit of letting go of something that’s right in front of her. Her hand finds Kara’s wrist and pulls her in and it’s not the best kiss she’s ever had, perched on the bar stools in a dimly-lit restaurant, but in that moment, everything seems to settle, and it feels like, for the first time in months, she gets to exhale.

When Kara finally breaks the kiss and leans back, she’s smiling wide, eyes bright. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” she says, like a confession, a little shy. “I just thought you weren’t interested, because why would Cat Grant ever want, well, me?”

Despite herself, despite the moment, Cat clicks her tongue. “We’re going to need to have another conversation about positive self-talk.” Kara laughs, loud, real, and Cat is struck by the sudden certainty that she wants to wake up to this face every single day for the rest of her life. It doesn’t scare her as much as she ever thought it would - it feels right, in a way very few things ever have, and she doesn’t want to let it go. “Alright,” Kara says. “A conversation for later, though?”

“Absolutely,” Cat says. “I think we have better things to do with our time tonight.”

“Agreed,” Kara smiles. “Let’s start with this.” She leans in again for another kiss, long and lingering, and Cat lets herself kiss back, hold on, fall in love. 


End file.
